


Toss and Turn

by night_is_where_the_romance_is



Category: Now You See Me (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Drabble, F/M, Fluff, Intense Backstory, Lula and Jack, Merritt Can't Type Well, Merritt is also not a morning person, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-18
Updated: 2016-07-18
Packaged: 2018-07-24 21:03:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7523032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/night_is_where_the_romance_is/pseuds/night_is_where_the_romance_is
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nightmares are the plague of dreams, the sleep terrors that reign within the deepest confines of your mind. Even the Horsemen get nightmares, especially Lula May.</p><p>But their nightmares didn't happen in front of them fifteen years ago.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Toss and Turn

_LULA_

_Dark room, one flickering lamp filling it with shaky light. Old table, leaning to the left. Mother, looking tired at the stove. Daughter, eight years old, setting out dishes. Father, entering through door, reeking of alcohol. Sharp words, harsh undertones of hissing whispers and belligerent yelling. Long silver knife, plunging into flesh. Dark red pouring to the floor, making pools around a little girl’s rain-boots. A flash of a smile, white teeth of a mother. Shakily pressed three buttons, making little clicks from the phone. Silver blade, shiny with blood that drips, making finger paintings on the scratched floor. It transforms into the sharp metal pressed against her neck, the unmistakable smell of airplane making the air heavy and claggy, sticking to her like paint, unable to scrub away. The knife bites harder into her throat, cold and unforgiving, as though it can sense all her sins and regrets._

_It’s coming for her._

 

 

___

 

“Lula, Lula, wake up!” Jack’s voice shakes her from her dream, dissipating and hiding in the shadows of her mind. “You were having a nightmare.”

“I’m fine,” she said immediately, looking down so her hair hid her face, focusing on how her hands tangled themselves up in the sheets, leaving crumples in their wake when she unclenched her fingers. “It was just a dream.”

“It wasn’t ‘just a dream’, you were all over the place. What happened?” Jack’s voice was sharper than normal, not the usual easy speech patterns but short and to the point, as though he could break down the walls she was hastily putting around her with enough poking. “Lula, please talk to me. Tell me what happened.”

“Nothing,” Lula shook her head and got out of the bed quickly, trying not to see the way his face tightened, as though he was in pain. “I’m gonna go make some coffee,” she added, turning out of the doorway and running downstairs. The coffee maker gurgled impatiently as she plugged it in, tapping out grounds into a filter methodically, as though if she repeated picking up the spoon and filling the paper enough, she could shake the image of the pleading look on her boyfriend’s face. She closed her eyes, focusing on the walls she imagined growing around her, made of steel. The steel turned into sheets of thin metal, like the walls rolled down and secured with an easily-picked lock, like the kiosks in malls with noisy air conditioning and bad pop music pumping through the speakers of the food court. God, even in her own mind she was as weak as those. _Power through it_ , she yelled at herself, throwing up another wall. If it was Danny or Dylan, would they be thinking about something that happened fifteen years ago? God no. She could do this, no matter what day it was. She could do this. 

“Lula?” Dylan’s voice came from behind, sounding gravelly and scratchy from sleep. “What are you doing up?”

“Making coffee,” she replied, not turning around to see him. She could see her reflection in the coffee pot, distorted from the curve of glass. Visible were eyes rimmed with red and dark circles, highlighted by the pale blood-drained skin of her face. “Want some?” She hadn’t realized she’d been crying silently the entire time she’d been standing in the kitchen. Lula stared, fascinated, at the round little outlines the tears made when they hit the fabric of her gray oversized shirt, and the damp feeling they deposited on her skin, little patches of cold underneath the shirt. It was Jack’s, but she’d stolen it from their closet when he wasn’t looking. Maybe he had been. Maybe he liked it when she stole his clothes to wear at night. Or maybe he just hadn’t been looking.

“It’s five in the morning.”

“Danny’s up.” It was true, she’d passed his room and saw the line of yellowy light shining from under his door in her mad dash to get away from Jack and the bed and the crumpled sheets, crumpled like her father’s shirt when he hit the floor, blood soaking it and turning it dark -

“ _Lula!_ ”

“What?” 

“Coffee maker’s ready.”

“Oh, right. What’s the date?”

“The eighteenth, why? Are you ok?” Dylan said, circling around her to stand at the counter with her, watching with concerned eyes. “You’ve been crying.”

“I’m fine. Black?”

“Yeah,” he answered, not paying attention as she swung the cabinet door open to retrieve four mugs. “Four?”

“Danny likes coffee too,” she replied, pouring the steaming liquid into the cups, not feeling the drops that splashed onto her hands.

“Is something wrong? Did you and Jack get into an argument or did -“

“Nothing happened,” Lula said, focusing on lifting two mugs without spilling. “Just a dream.”

 

_JACK_

 

“Is Lula ok?” Dylan asked, not knocking before he entered the room the couple shared. “She was just crying, I don’t know where she is.”

“What?”

“She wasn’t answering my questions, and she didn’t say anything, did you two get into a fight or something? She said she had a dream, but she went to give Danny coffee and -“

“Where is she?” Jack cut off Dylan’s words, already walking out into the hall.

“I don’t know,” he replied, following at Jack’s heels. “She went to give you and Danny coffee and then she just disappeared.”

“Maybe she’s in Atlas’ room,” Jack said, already knocking on his door. “Danny, you in there man?”

“What’s going on?” Danny asked, swinging the door open, holding a mug of coffee. “Why are you guys up?”

“Lula,” Jack answered, “do you know where she is?”

“No, she gave me coffee and then went away. What’s all this about?”

“Still in the dark too. Jack, what’s going on?”

“Lula had a nightmare this morning and was really upset. I don’t know what happened, she was fine last night, but something bad must’ve gotten to her.”

“What’s going on?” Merritt mumbled, rubbing his eyes as he stepped out into the hall. “Did someone die?”

“No one _died_ , Merritt.” Danny said in exasperation. 

“Then why am I up?”

“Have you seen Lula?” Dylan broke in, breaking up the soon-to-be argument. 

“Last night, yeah. Why?”

“Dylan, mind filling him in?” Jack said, already walking downstairs. He ran a hand through his hair, a nervous tick. He was getting worried: first Lula was tossing and turning from a nightmare and once she woke up, she practically ran away from him and wouldn’t talk to anyone, it seemed. And now they had no idea where she’d gone. “What the hell happened?”

“I don’t know, she was being evasive and wanted to know what day it was and -“

“Wait. Back up. What day is it?”

“The eighteenth,” Danny supplied, checking his phone, the harsh glow of light hurting Jack’s eyes. Lula had said something once when she was asleep, the murmurs of her sleep talking were beautiful. ‘The light from our phones spoils the way we look at the light of the world’. The eighteenth of July.

“Oh, shit.”

“What is it?”

“This is the anniversary.”

“Of what?”

“Remember what she said the first time we met her? That her mom knifed her dad in the neck?”

“This - today - it’s-“

“Yeah,” Jack said, slamming his eyes shut. “And now Lula’s upset and thinking about the day her dad _died_.”

The four were silent in the hallway, the drips of coffee and uneven breathing the only noises. “Well, not to undermine the seriousness of the situation, but it _was_ Atlas who said that no one died.”

 

_LULA_

 

The attic was quiet. It was a nice change, not hearing noises every few minutes, whether or not it was the clicks of lock picking or the belligerent slurring of Merritt when he was drunk. Sure, it was a little dusty up here. Ok, maybe more than a little. The gray particles covered every inch of her body that touched a surface, leaving imprints of her hands on structs. She’d always been good at climbing the jungle gyms of the orphanage. Oh, sorry, ‘Children’s Home for the Lost’. Yeah, she hadn’t been lost. She’d been tossed in there after her mom snapped and gave her dad what had been coming to him. Her mom was gone too, now. Got cancer in jail, couldn’t afford the hospital payments once she got out. ‘It’s too far gone,’ she’d told Lula. ‘And I’m not saddling you with hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of debt when their treatments are only going to make me a little more bruised and give me a few more months’. 

Her phone buzzed again, Jack’s picture flashing up on the screen as the red ‘DECLINE’ and green ‘ACCEPT’ buttons popped up, like pressing one would seal a fate. ‘Choose me’, she could hear them saying. ‘I’m worth it’.

Maybe she was going crazy. After all, she was hearing her phone screen talk to her. Jack’s photo disappeared and was replaced with the little rectangle of ‘VOICEMAIL’ blaring an inconsistent ‘Listen to me!’. The box disappeared and was replaced with dings reminding her of new messages. Dylan. Merritt. Danny. Jack. Jack again. Dylan again. Danny again. Merritt again. Jack again. Jack again. 

She sighed and picked up the phone, feeling the warmth of the whirring technology underneath the metal and glass sheets heat the body of the phone up. Lula unlocked it, (her password was obvious enough they wouldn’t ever guess it: HORSEWOMAN) and flicked open her settings. ‘Turn off read receipts’ and opened the first message.

Dylan’s was first.

**Heard what happened. Just know I’m here if you want to talk, I get what you’re going through, at least a little bit. Hope you’re ok, understand if you just want some time to yourself.**

Danny.

**Hey, Lula. I get that what you’re going through is rough. Don’t expect you to want to talk to me, but if you would let me know you’re ok (actually, tell Jack. He’s getting upset.) that’d be good. Or tell Dylan. Or anyone really.**

Merritt.

**Lula - no ur goin thru a lot - here if u wanna talk or smthn. sorry 4 the lingo - 2 damn early. let us no ur ok pls.**

Jack.

**Are you ok?**

Jack again.

**Please tell me you’re ok.**

Dylan.

**Not trying to spam you - just want to make sure you’re ok. Make contact if you want. I get it if you don’t - please come back soon.**

Danny.

**Please message back. Jack’s freaking out. Hope you’re doing ok. We love you Lula.**

Merritt.

**Hey, Crazy Dove Lady - come back please. The rest of them are going crazy. Miss my partner in crime. Please let us know you’re ok - I’ll make you a McKinney Original Cocktail for you to drink once you get back. Love you.**

Jack.

**Lula, please let me know you’re getting these. Please come back, or at least tell us you’re ok. I’m getting really freaked out.**

Last message. Jack’s message.

**I love you. We all do. Please don’t make yourself go through this alone. You’ve been gone for six hours. Going to go traipse around the forest for you now - please don’t slap me when you come back for how cheesy that is. Love you.**

It’d been six hours? The last message from Jack was dated at ten hours ago. It was, God, what time was it? Lula checked the time.

**_9:00 PM_ **

She hopped off the struct she’d been sitting on, feeling her muscles ache. Lula stretched her arms, wiping her face instinctively.

How long had she’d been crying?

“The past ten minutes,” Jack answered, walking over. She must’ve asked the question aloud. “Only when you checked your messages.”

“How long have you been here?”

“Just those ten minutes.”

“You called me. A lot. Like, my-phone-bill-will-be-through-the-roof a lot.”

“I’ll pay the bill.”

“You were worried.”

“We all were,” he said, wrapping his arms around her. “Do you want to talk now?”

“Better now than in a year.”

“Well, I’m glad to know you’ll still be here in a year.”

“I don’t give up easily.”

 

_JACK_

 

Lula told him everything: how her dad was an alcoholic who couldn’t hold a steady job, how they moved from apartment to apartment, from motel to seedy motel in the middle of the night so the landlords or desk workers couldn’t see them fleeing from the bills they couldn’t pay. How her dad drank away the savings and how her mom snapped one night. How she couldn’t take one more night of him stumbling in drunk, late for dinner, yelling and saying terrible things. How she picked up the carving knife and slammed it into his neck. How her mom smiled before she dialed 911. How Lula got shipped off into an orphanage when her mom got put in jail, bouncing from foster home to foster home as her mom steadily got worse from the cancer that was spreading from her bone marrow to her bones, from her bones to her blood to her skin. How once she got out and Lula was eighteen, hustling money like there was no tomorrow to pay for the hospital and the chemo, her mom decided she didn’t want to saddle her with the debts when she would die anyway. How her mom passed away and didn’t let any of the doctors tending to her that night call her daughter and let Lula know that her mother only had a few hours left.

How Lula was on her way to the bus station that would take her to the hospital when she got the call.

How she had two graves to visit when most people her age had none.

“And it was just, just, it was like nothing mattered, you know? Like my mom was gone and then everything turned gray. I kept hustling on street corners, saved up some money, ran to New York, tried as damn hard as I could to get a job, but for some reason no one wanted to hire a stray from the streets. So I thought everything was going to hell, and I was headed there too, but I got some money from a few rounds of Find the Lady, did some birthday parties off of newspaper advertisements, did a few B-rate magic shows, got a few more street hustles in, got the Eye's attention after I swindled Dylan out of a couple hundred bucks, and then I was in China with you, dealing with Mabry.”

“Lula, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine. I just try and not think about it, you know? My mom at least had a few months with me before she passed, my street corner gig got me some good stories. It’s just this time of year, it gets harder to put a smile on with the rest of the clothes in the morning when you remember how your whole life went to shit the second you were born.”

“Look at me,” Jack said, lifting Lula’s chin. “Your life has not gone to shit. You’re one of the best magicians in history. You’ve done more than most people have in their entire goddamn life. You’ve _changed_ us Lula, you give us all so much. Dylan has someone who can match Danny now. Merritt has a friend. I have the best person I’ve ever met sitting in front of me. You are so much more than a kid who had it rough growing up. You’re Lula May, god damn it.”

“Do you know how much I love you?”

“More than you know.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, and thank you for reading! I really hope you enjoyed it, and if you have any requests, reviews, suggestions, or comments, please leave them down in the comments section below! Thanks!
> 
> -Night


End file.
